Perspective, Long Overdue
by Shinigami Yumi
Summary: Thor and Loki talk about it. And then some. [Spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok. Because my feelings were cheated.]


"If you were here, I might even give you a hug."

Thor isn't expecting his brother to catch the tossed bottle cap, for the Loki before him to not be another illusion.

"I'm here," the other says with a tentative smile, and now the words hang in the air, all awkward possibility.

For once, he doesn't know whether to act on it, if it could be all right, if they could pretend. Perhaps there was too much between them now — as he said, their paths diverged long ago. But he's done with the anger, done with the grief, done with trying to bring back the Loki he remembers that may have been more delusion than fact. So he steps towards his brother —Loki would hide the slight, along with all the pain and little hurts of centuries past that he'd been too blind to see before, otherwise, he knows now—, watches as an answering step is taken in turn, and maybe… maybe those paths could converge once more — he's always held out hope. He doesn't hold out his arms though — Loki would only call it ridiculous.

The uncertainty, then, is all too much, and it's too easy to choose distraction—

"How did you—"

"You left me on that junk pile," Loki accuses at the same time, but there's little heat in it, and Thor huffs a laugh.

"Good thing I did, aye?" He gestures pointedly at their spaceship. "I knew you'd escape eventually, and…" Blue eyes turn wistful as he takes a sip from the glass in his hand. "I wouldn't have to watch you die again."

"Heh…" Loki shakes his head, pretending to examine the cap in his hands. "I envy that," he says quietly, and for once, Thor doesn't have to ask what his brother means —trapping him on Sakaar would have surely kept him alive. They'd had the same thought, it seems, but Loki could never admit so openly, and Thor knows better than to pursue it now.

"How _did_ you earn that Grandmaster's favour anyway?" he asks instead, holding out the glass in offering. He hadn't missed the downright lascivious look thrown his brother's way.

"Ooh," Loki purses his lips as he takes it, a mischievous twinkle in green eyes. "Jealousy does not become you, Brother."

"No?" Thor waggles his eyebrows as Loki drinks a mouthful — this is good, familiar, their teasing, flirting banter. "I thought you liked possessive."

"Nor is being sneaky." Loki continues with a smirk, undeterred and unbaited — the way Thor had stolen and then used the disc was… unexpected, by all accounts, and the trickster was almost —dare he say— proud. Open communication is _Thor's_ forté — the blond is honest to a fault, and Loki had despaired of subtlety and subterfuge ever rubbing off on him. "But—"

"Learned from the best, wouldn't you say?" Thor beats him to it with a grin — what are gods without their egos, after all. He reaches up unthinkingly to wipe a drop of amber spirit off the upturned corner of Loki's mouth with his thumb, and green eyes snap to blue immediately, a question for which Thor has no answer. The light reflected off the amber sheen on those thin lips is golden, golden like Asgard, like the home they'd both lost and, unbidden, a voice echoes in his memory.

"Give us a kiss?"

He longs to smile and weep all at once —happier times, simpler times, halls and chambers they would never see again— and those fathomless green eyes flick to his mouth and back although, even then, it had been too long since they'd been close.

Thor traces the hard line of his brother's mouth in a caress, curls blunt fingers over a pale cheek and senses the most minute shiver. They're the only family they have now, he realizes with a pang of sorrow, and presses their foreheads together, hand sliding over soft skin to cup the back of his brother's neck. There's a surprised intake of breath, but Loki doesn't pull away.

They stay that way, sharing breath and noses touching in the moment of silence, until finally, he murmurs, "I never doubted you would come."

With his eye closed, he only feels dark eyebrows rise. "Never?"

Thor does smile this time. "Doubt that you love me?" he echoes Loki's words, as if from a lifetime ago now, keeping his tone light as he thinks of his brother's fond smile when he recounted their childhood tale. "No. Just as nothing will diminish my love for you."

They know no other way to be, he thinks. It's not always pretty —love can take twisted, ugly forms, too, just glossed over by the bards and skalds— but even when he doesn't understand, he knows now that the blade in his ribs and the kiss on his lips stem somehow from the same source. And that's all right — that's how Loki has always been, just as likely to help as to trick him, and nothing like the bitter edge to their previous battles. Even so, he's sure that, if Loki truly wanted him dead, he would be.

He expects Loki to call him a sentimental fool, to complain that this is embarrassing, but no reproach comes, only a barely audible huff, and suddenly, he finds his mind straying to that odd piece of theatre, clearly an embellished reenactment commissioned by Loki himself. He's not used to thinking like this, but it's his brother in question, and Thor is sure that the little details are important, what Loki did and didn't change.

"Why?" he asks, sure he's ruined things again when Loki sighs, pulling away.

But instead of jests or insults, he only replies, "I'm sure I don't know which you mean," mildly as he sets the glass and cap down on the tray it came from, and Thor will count it as progress, attribute it to the strange mood.

"All of it," he replies, making an encompassing gesture with his hand as he turns — he can't pinpoint which matters most. Besides, if he chooses wrongly, Loki will simply refuse to answer at all — direct is rarely the best approach with this trickster.

He's got that wistful smile on his face, though, like that time in the elevator, and Thor finds himself reaching out instinctively to offer some gesture of comfort, but Loki steps out of range. Well, considering the last time…

"What does it matter?"

Oh, it matters to him, but he's sure Loki cares about as much as he cares that Loki hates Get Help. He still manages to catch and squeeze the other's hand, though, and Loki's pause to stare is the moment of thought he needs.

"That I never asked before is perhaps my greatest failing, Brother," he says softly, running the pad of his thumb over that slender wrist like he hasn't in too long to realize how much he missed it. "Is it too late for me to listen?"

Loki whirls on him with guarded eyes, but doesn't snatch his hand away or storm out.

Maybe it's true what Father said about losing an eye, or maybe all his reflection on what he could have done differently as he mourned his brother is unexpectedly paying off, because that's exactly the opening he needs.

Thor folds Loki into his arms, buries his face in soft, dark hair and inhales deeply to savour his brother's scent — clean musk, leather and mistletoe. He's missed this, missed _Loki_ — it's like water in Muspelheim.

"So much for listening," Loki scoffs, but remains still, and Thor can't help the happy, relieved laugh that bubbles out of him.

"I did say I'd give you a hug, Brother." He's relieved Loki doesn't shove him away, relieved that Loki has stopped denying that they're brothers, — blood, intimacy or otherwise. "And I'm perfectly capable of doing both… unless, of course, you mean to say my mere embrace has left you speechless, Silfrtunga."

The other does shove him away this time, glowering. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Brother. You just can't always have what you want."

"No," he agrees — not too long ago, he'd have argued, but looking back, in the face of everything they've been through over the centuries, so many things seem so trivial now. "I suppose I hoped it'd be what you want, but you've always delighted in being contrary, Brother." He bounces on his feet, unused to standing still. "Ah, no, not contrary. You see, I realized, all our lives, Father —nay, all of Asgard— has tried to make you what you are not—"

"A lie," Loki snaps. "Like the rest of it. Call it what it is."

Thor inclines his head, doesn't dispute it. "But you can only be yourself. And maybe it's good, or maybe it's something else, but none of that really matters."

Green eyes narrow. "What's gotten into you?" Loki has to wonder if his brother has finally snapped. Not that he's displeased or shocked —the events of the past few days would suffice to break any lesser man, and he'll readily admit this is a nice change— but he can scarcely believe Thor is ready to let the past few years go so easily now.

In response, Thor goes to refill his drink, pours out two glasses this time and offers one to Loki. "Perspective," he says at last with a shrug, leaning on the shelf. Catching the raised eyebrow, he adds, "Oh, I know you've convinced yourself otherwise, but yes, Brother, I do think sometimes."

Loki tries and fails not to snort as he accepts the drink, but Thor only grins. He's had plenty of time to think since it all began, to weigh what he knows about his brother against all the things the trickster did and didn't say.

"You know," blue eyes drift to the amber liquid swirling lazily in its vessel, "we've both made mistakes, you and I. The consequences weren't fair, I see that now." He ignores the eyeroll and scoffed "you don't say" to forge on. "But that's all gone now." Literally, too, and he's sure if he just stops to really think about it, there'll be grief enough for the Nine Realms, but he can't, _he can't_ — he's king now. He doesn't know why he ever wanted to be.

He looks up to find green eyes studying him intently… like he's grown a second head and needs to be picked apart for the science Banner and Stark are so fond of. "Can't we forgive each other and start over?" He holds out his glass. "Brothers, friends, equals…?" _Something more?_

Loki's breath hitches on the last, barely audible, but,  
"You're king now," he says flatly.

"Why don't you be?" Thor counters, nonplussed. Frankly, he'd be glad to be rid of the responsibility. There isn't much of a kingdom left either —they're a bunch of refugees aboard a stolen spaceship— so he's not much of a king anymore.

Loki opens his mouth, closes it again, and Thor takes a moment to savour the satisfaction of rendering his famously articulate brother speechless… with mere words, no less! Then Loki scowls, catching on.

"Oh no, you don't." He circles Thor, predatory, waving an imperious finger. "You're not getting out of this so easily."

It cracks him up — Thor laughs helplessly. He spreads his arms, turning to face the other. "And were you not playing king most wonderfully before I came back to, and I quote, ruin everything, Brother?"

"And after you ruined everything, you want me to fix it for you?" Loki crosses his arms, turning away. "How typical."

Thor could point out that he's at least helped to fix his fair share of his brother's messes, starting with a certain very big one on Midgard a mere blip in their long, long lives ago, but no, he'd resolved not to bring that up. He won't get his answers if they start fighting again.

Instead, he saunters over to clap his free hand on the other's shoulder. "It was worth a shot. Imagine," he gestures in a wide arc with the glass, "you could perfect that statue once again." Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Loki's fond smile, but pretends not to notice, letting his hand drop to a slim waist. "And it'd be fun! You and I, getting each other into and out of trouble again." They'd spent much of their youth that way — whether it was some prank of Loki's gone too far or some rash decision of Thor's gone wrong, they always got out of it together.

Just as they rescued their surviving people together.

And maybe their paths have truly diverged, and someday they will have to fight again, but for now, Loki is here. He could have gone anywhere in that spaceship, but he's here. He could have led Korg and the others anywhere, but he came to help… and he came back.

Hope runs eternal, after all.

Thor slips his arm around his brother's waist, filled with sudden optimism. If there's hope for them yet, the future cannot be so bleak.

Loki clinks their glasses, leaning back. "No," he says at last. "It's not too late."

* * *

 _Perspective._

Loki stares out the window into the vastness of space, at the glimmer of countless distant stars. This isn't the first time he's seen it, but the effect is undiminished — it's easy to gain perspective like this, to feel like one's existence and its problems are so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

He knows better, of course — they're gods. Not all-powerful, but by no means insignificant. If they hadn't put a stop to their sister back there, the ramifications would have been far from insignificant.

Beside him, he can feel his brother's warm presence, the electric buzz of Thor's boundless optimism. He's quite certain he won't be welcome on Midgard, and he doesn't relish the thought of falling forever this time, but—

That ship.

It's unmistakable.

Pain and darkness and in his head, always in his head, and he can't breathe suddenly. He can't breathe. He's seeing black and blue.

"Brother." He's pressed to Thor's side in a crushing embrace. Too tight, but it's solid and warm, and he buries his face in his brother's neck. "Breathe with me," and he does, deep and slow, ozone and musk.

He needs to get a grip. This is no time for—

A bright flash, and a shockwave sends them flying into the wall. Thor, that romantic oaf, takes the brunt of it, of course — Norns, he's impossible to hate.

In a daze, Loki picks himself up and pulls the blond to his feet. Not that it matters — the next shot will obliterate them. And it's his fault, too — he should have left it in the vault, no matter he wouldn't have escaped the palace in time; everyone would probably consider it good riddance.

Watching as Thor barks orders, efficient and focused, Loki remembers how it all began — Thor has always been a natural leader, but back then, he'd been too arrogant and rash to be king. Now, with his powers awakened and his priorities in the right place, his golden brother is _majestic._ Loki always knew that Thor would someday be a better king than his father had ever been because, while Odin mellowed with achievement, Thor's good nature is the real thing — his compassion is without artifice, and he'd die to save his people, he's proven that. Maybe there was some other path they could have taken here, but Loki wouldn't change this result for anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees the telltale light, and he knows what he must do. There is no time, no escape, no other way.

"My king," he murmurs, smiling when his brother whirls on him in shock as he reaches into the Tesseract with his seidr. Even if he could choose another, he wouldn't — only one matters; only one ever has. "Never doubt."

He presses his lips to Thor's as he sends him away. He didn't choose a destination — it's safer if he doesn't know. An instant before impact, and they're gone.

It's hard to adjust to the dark after the bright flash, but Loki can sense the Mad Titan all the same. He holds out the Tesseract in offering. "As you requested. I managed to take it for you before it could be lost with the destruction of Asgard."

 _Will you forgive me this time, Brother?_

He's doomed them all, perhaps, but if Thanos has what he came for, he will look no further. He will not find Thor. That's all that matters.

If Loki knows his brother, Thor will find allies across the realms to fight Thanos — he's counting on it.

Until then, he will bide his time.


End file.
